If Today Was Your Last Day: Kingdom Come
by Becky Ada
Summary: Rebekah has a love and talent for music, especially her guitar. She auditions for the Hogwarts choir. In late September, Professor Flitwick notifies the choir members of a competition that will occur between all of the members in the following year. An event that only happens once every fifty years. Will Rebekah win?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well, here you have it, my friends! The rewrite of Kingdom Come! I know it's later than promised, but I needed time to sort all my ideas and get my canon right and stuff. I came up with a plot for this while listening to Kingdom Come by The Civil Wars, beleive it or not! Before I was just going to almost completely follow the plot J.K. came up with. But now I have an original one! Yay!**

**Disclaimer: All the characters (except Rebekah, Oliver, Ryan and Celeste, and maybe a few others later on used) belong to J.K. Rowling, as well as the plot... well, the main plot... er... the... you get what I mean.**

Teaser: Rebekah has a love and talent for music, especially her guitar. To no one's surprise, she auditions for the Hogwarts choir.

In late September, Professor Flitwick notifies the choir members of a competition that will occur between all of the members in the following year. An event that only happens once every fifty years. The winner(s) of this will go on to the second round: competing against all the Witchcraft and Wizardry schools in Europe. Will Rebekah win the first round?

Most of all: will she find out more about her parents that she never knew? Or about the siblings she remembers she had?

* * *

Well over twenty people were gathered at a large table. Quite an odd-looking group it was - a skinny old wizard with silvery hair cascading in a long, flowing curtain down his back, a very long beard, and blazing blue eyes peeking out from thick half-moon glasses sat there at the head of the table. To his right was someone who looked close enough to be is twin, though he was admittedly older. To his right was a balding man who, through his many scars and maimings, gave off a very frightening aura. Everyone at the table was wearing a grim expression as though they were mourning someone.

A small boy not much older than a year waddled unsteadily around, leading a little girl that looked around the same age in the yard, finding interest in the flowers spread at the plants around the garden.

"Look, 'Ecca!" He said, pointing to a pale blue flower growing out of a bush. The little girl behind him giggled, reaching out to stroke the silky petals of the flower. "No! You hut it!" he shouted, reaching for her arm, nearly falling over as he did this. "You hut it!"

A little girl, only perhaps eleven months old, was sitting on a blanket on the grass, not too far from the table, playing with a few cloth dolls. One might not believe it, but she was actually making the dolls have a conversation, in her head.

"Let's go play tag!" She thought, standing up one of the dolls with a chubby fist.

"Okay! You're it!" said the other doll, also being controlled with an unsteady hand.

"I would be more than happy to take his twin, Augusta," said a quite tall young man with slightly greying hair and a scarred face. His robes were obviously second-hand; he had not wanted to take advantage of his friend, James Potter's wealth when he was alive. He had been killed by You-Know-Who a little over two weeks ago. "that is, if someone could fill in for me when I'm... busy."

At this, the wizard second to the right stood up rather quickly, causing the chair he was sitting in to topple over with a thump on the grass "No!" he barked, making them all jump. Where had this sudden anger come from? "No, that's the very last thing they would've wanted!" he stopped; his yelling had scared the baby, who was now screaming her lungs out. Augusta sighed, getting up to calm them. "I'm getting too old for this…" she muttered.

He continued, speaking in hardly more than a whisper. "These are dark times, Remus, dark times. They would have wanted the three of them spread out, each on different continents..."

When Augusta had come back to sit, he repeated this plan. She pondered over this for a moment before nodding slowly. "Yes, they would've wanted to be as far spread out in the world as possible, so You-Know-Who's followers would have a harder time tracking them down. Oh but Alastor!" she cried, rising up from her chair again, slapping a hand to her forehead. "They've all got the Trace on them!"

"Augusta," one of the men with the beards attempted to calm her. "Augusta, Voldemort is gone for the time being. He cannot take over the Min-"

"His followers, Albus!"

Albus Dumbledore realized he could not argue this.

"Well, are we going to split them or not?" asked a man near the other end of the table quietly. He looked about the same age as Remus, wearing black robes and having shoulder-length, greasy black hair, pale skin, and cold black eyes.

"It won't protect them much more if they get a hold of the Ministry! So what's the point!"

"The point, my dear Augusta," Albus began. "is that, until the Death Eaters take over the Ministry of Magic, the children will be safe! And if it comforts you, I have heard of a few wizard orphanages; they will be safe." he repeated.

"Orphanages?!" Remus nearly shouted. "Dumbledore, you can't send the children of-"

"They will be safest there, Remus."

"Excuse me," Remus said quietly before leaving the table and disappearing behind the hedge.

"Poor Remus," muttered Alastor. Turning back to face the table, he said, "if I'm not mistaken, he has grown fond of the children."

"That is a likely cause for his short temper today," said Albus philosophically. "Their father was -is- one of his good friends, after all, after misters Sirius, James and Peter," There was a rare, unmistakable bitterness to his voice as he said the last name. "Well, where are we sending the children?" Albus asked cheerfully after a moment of silence as though his anger had never been there. He smiled, taking sudden interest in a moth flitting around a candle as the sky grew darker.

"Far away from here," Alastor said. "The boy should be kept with you, Augusta."

She nodded curtly. "I'll keep the boy. Maybe one of the girls could go to the U.S-"

"That was exactly where the Guaires were killed not too long ago! It isn't safe for an infant!"

Murmurs of agreement spread along the table.

"May I suggest Ottawa? It is home to one of the most well-known wizarding orphanages." Albus intervened.

"And asylum," said the man with the greasy, curtain like hair. "If that is any better than having two murderers on the loose."

"I heard they removed the asylum section." said a strict looking witch.

This was the beginning of a long debate as to whether the orphanage in Ottawa, Canada would be safe for a small child. In the end, it was concluded that the youngest would be sent to an orphanage in Wellington, New Zealand, while the other would be sent to Saint Patrick's Orphanage and Asylum in Ottawa, Canada. A letter would be sent to two individuals that Augusta trusted to take care of the children until they were the age of 14, or in the case of the youngest, 13. The two guardians -or families- would bring them back to Britain to live at the age of eight…


	2. 5,356 Kilometers Away

Sunlight streamed through the crystal clear windows of a nineteenth century lobby. A little girl that looked to be around four feet tall sat on a dingy, grey carpeted oak staircase. Below her was a matte oak floor, above her a white ceiling with cobwebs in the corners, and dust hanging from the darkened and scratched grand chandelier. The walls around her were blue with a tinge of grey, undoubtedly last painted a little over a century ago, were bare except for a portrait of every owner of the orphanage (currently Mrs. Locke) by the front desk.  
The girl had pin straight dirty blonde hair that was cut in a straight line at her shoulders, her bangs tickling slightly above her eyebrows, which were knitted together in concentration. Her wide blue-grey eyes darted across the pages of a dog-eared book, _The Girl with the Silver Eyes_ by Willo Davis Roberts. About once every thirty seconds, she glanced up through the window, squinting through the too bright afternoon sunlight.  
Waiting.  
She had been told that someone –some family- was coming to adopt her today, on her eighth birthday. Some family with the surname "Granger". She laughed quietly to herself. Granger was a surname that meant "farmer". Would her legal guardians live on a farm? Not that she minded, of course; she loved animals.

"Why don't you go upstairs and talk to Clover and Ivy, Rebekah?" Ms. Addison, a caregiver who had been hired less than a month ago advised the girl. She was easily the nicest caregiver there, _they all were when they're new,_ Rebekah thought. _But just give her a couple years –maybe even months- and she'll have a temper as short as Mrs. Stockwell's.  
_ Rebekah looked up from the book, mumbled something, and continued reading. Ms. Addison tilted her head slightly and gave a small, sympathetic smile and sat on the staircase next to Rebekah. "Nervous?" she asked casually.  
"Just a bit." Rebekah replied, barely louder than a whisper.  
"That's quite normal," Ms. Addison said. "quite normal. But you know what? The Grangers are very nice, very friendly family. And they have a daughter who is eight, just like you."  
This statement only made Rebekah feel worse. Now there was going to be someone else that she would have to impress, but then again, she had always wanted a sibling. Hopefully her soon-to-be stepsister wasn't one of those overly popular, overly spoiled, overly mean people that treated oddities like pieces of scum, because Rebekah Soon-To-Be Granger was indeed an oddity.

Rebekah was a witch. There was no denying it - she had even grown up in an orphanage that had only magical children to prove it, and because of that, she could do the strangest things. Once, after school, a bully had beaten her up. She had walked back to the orphanage with cuts and bruises, _and probably a black eye, too,_ she thought. No one asked her what happened, so she pointed it out to several caretakers. All of them had gotten mad at her, saying "Don't lie to me, young lady," That night, when it was her turn to shower, she checked herself in the bathroom mirror for the injuries she knew she had, and, to her astonishment, found nothing. The bully was gaping at her the next day, muttering, "impossible," whenever he saw her.

Another time, her science teacher had told her off for staring at the clock. There had been the loud, trademark smash of glass breaking, and all the lights in the school had gone out. School had been dismissed early that day because all the glass had fallen on the floor and it posed a danger to the children and staff alike.

At yet another recess at school, she had managed to turn a bluebird's feathers purple, to its dislike, but awing her classmates, as well as the teachers and passersby at the same time. She had been warned not to do that again by one of the caregivers, as they knew she had done that on purpose.

"Here they come," Ms. Addison noted as a silver car pulled up in front of the orphanage, standing up to answered the door. She took two paces, then turned around. "Oh, I forgot: put these on Ivy's and Clover's nightstands. It's the address of where you'll be living so you three can stay in touch."  
Rebekah took the two strips of paper that Ms. Addison held out and walked upstairs to the dormitory she shared with her two best friends. In fact, her _only_ friends, if she didn't count the ones who had made fun of her at one point in time.

The solid oak door closed with a familiar thud. Neither Clover nor Ivy was there in the dormitory, and although she could feel her heart sinking, Rebekah wasn't worried; the two usually snuck out the back door to the forest not far from the orphanage, but usually her with them.  
Rebekah put the two paper pieces on their nightstands, ensuring they were face down – she felt nauseated when she thought about how far away she was going. She sat on her bed, running her hand over the cottony grey linen that she had spent so long straightening out that morning. On either side of her, sticking out of the wall opposite the door, were two beds resting on dark-stained wooden frames, dressed in grey and white linen. On the wall to Rebekah's right were two pine wardrobes with the dark paint peeling off, with tarnished brass handles. The wall parallel to that one had Clover's identical wardrobe. The walls, a faded grey tinted with blue, and the floors, which were the same oak colour as the bedframes and the same colour as the paint on the wardrobes, looked too gloomy to Rebekah, too out of place with the clear blue summer's sky visible through the splintering windowsill. After ensuring that every inch of the room was eternally stamped into her memory, she held the cool brass of the door's handle in her hand for a few seconds, staring at the smooth matte surface, then heaved it open, starting down the staircase for the last time.

**A/N Well, here we are. The first chapter. I know, it's really short, but I couldn't find any place to add any more stuff without ruining the whole point of the chapter.  
****It was finished sooner than I expected - It was my goal to have the final product sometime next week, not this early. Hope you liked it nonetheless. ^.^  
Second chapter should be up sometime before the end of this month. **


	3. New Places, New Faces

Hermione Granger, as her step sister had introduced herself was a girl with bushy brown hair and beaver-like front teeth. She was quite the opposite of overly popular, overly spoiled and overly mean, But, although Hermione was quite friendly, she could be an annoying know-it-all. Hermione was literally obsessed with Math– _heck,_ Rebekah thought, _if math was a person, she'd want to marry it!  
_ Rebekah had also been wrong about the Grangers living on a farm. In fact, it was as far from a farm as possible without living in the very centre of the city. They were residents in a nice little three bedroom house near the heart of London, England. Mr. and Mrs. Granger worked at a busy dentistry office a little over ten kilometers away, and there were a couple of hours where their shifts overlapped on the weekdays. Other than that, there was always one of them at home.

The night before the first day of school, Rebekah couldn't manage to sit down for more than five minutes. The whole evening, she sat, got up and walked around the house, flicking lights on and off and opening and closing doors as she did so. Eventually, she settled, sitting cross-legged on her bed, holding a blue ink pen and a piece of lined paper atop one of her textbooks she would need for school the next day.

She couldn't stop the words from appearing on the paper. Words that had nothing to do with what she wanted to write. So she stopped and let the pen wander freely across the page.

_Where am I?  
Lost, in a maze with no end.  
A horrible feeling it is.  
What if I go 'round that bend?_

_This is hard, I'll admit it._  
_I have to choose the right way._  
_Let's just hope there's no bottomless pit,_  
_Because I hope to see the light of day._

_This part's easy; I know it like the back of my hand._  
_I know where to go, who to be,_  
_Like a strictly ruled land, made only for me._

_Rough, smooth, pointed, dull,_  
_Another way to put life._  
_We have those times, when we feel like they broke our skull,_  
_But also when there's no strife._

Rebekah looked the poem up and down, whispering it to herself so she knew how it sounded, editing minor things here and there. When she was satisfied with how it sounded, she placed it on her bedside table, crawling under the downy blankets of her bed.

Rebekah woke up to the steady _beep beep beep_ of her alarm clock. 5:30 a.m. Why had she set it so early? Hadn't Mr. Granger said that school started at eight thirty? No one else was awake, and the sky was only just beginning to turn the wonderful colours of sunrise. But, from experience, she knew that once she was awake, she was awake for a good twelve hours. She reached for the pen and pad of paper on her nightstand, flipping to a blank page. She could take the spare time to write, she thought, doing just that.

_Who, they ask, who is it?  
What, they plead, what is that  
Where, they question, where is it?  
When, they beg, when is it?  
Why, they wonder, why did it happen?_

After Hermione and Rebekah walked to school together, Hermione asked if she'd be alright by herself. Rebekah was too shy to object, so she merely nodded, and Hermione disappeared through the crowd on the schoolyard.  
Rebekah looked at her surroundings. Everyone seemed to be too busy talking to their friends to notice her, and for that she was grateful. If they hadn't been, she would have to talk to them, and even thinking about talking to that many new people made her stomach churn. She walked over to the spot in the field where there were five rows of bike racks. A group of girls were giggling at the opposite bike rack, but she didn't pay any attention to them, nor them to her. Instead, she looked up at the sky and took a deep shuddering breath. It had just rained the previous night, and the air felt and smelled as though it had just been washed. Rebekah reached behind her, grabbing the bar of the bike rack, instantly jumping forward. The bar had raindrops still. She brushed the raindrops of the bar, whipping her hands on her jeans. Once again, she leaned back on the rack, tipping her head up to look at the sky.

"Pretty, isn't it?" a voice said off to her left. Becca jumped, looking towards the source of the voice. A girl with pale skin and auburn hair was sitting on a backpack, also glancing up at the sky. Just as Rebekah opened her mouth to ask who she was, the girl said, "I'm Dawn Tanner…" she trailed off into a sing-song voice, clearly mesmerized by the depths of the clear sky.  
"Rebekah Granger," Rebekah muttered quietly, staring up at a tiny black dot high above her - probably a bird of some sort.  
"Hermione doesn't have a sister… you don't look like her, either…"  
"Her mum and dad adopted me in the summer."  
"You'll have a lot to live up to, then. She gets nothing lower than ninety-five percent on everything."  
Rebekah nodded. After a moment of silence, Dawn said, "Did you know that the sky is blue because of the reflection of the water?"  
"I didn't," she murmured. "I was told that it was chemicals in the atmosphere."  
"It isn't," Dawn said. Again, there was a moment of silence and Dawn was the first one to break it. "Would you like me to show you where everything is?"  
"Are we allowed to go inside?"  
"Why wouldn't we be?"

The school's interior felt and looked old, like the Orphanage, but it was of a different atmosphere - a lively one. Children ranging between five and eleven years old gathered in the wooden-floored corridors, usually in groups of no more than five or six, although here and there, there was a group of nine or more. Dawn continued down the hall, saying hello to a few people, waving her hand for Rebekah to follow her.  
"There's Ms. Upton's classroom – she's the Maths teacher. Right there is Mrs. Stafford, the music teacher, and that's the staffroom. Down there is the office…" Rebekah occasionally threw in a "wow" or a nod to try and get Dawn to think she was listening.  
"Rebekah? Rebekah, the bell rang – Rebekah!"  
"Wh- who?" she mumbled, jumping.  
"The bell rang! We have to go to homeroom!"  
"Er… which one is that again?"  
"Oh, c'mon!" Dawn exclaimed, grabbing her wrist and dragging her down the corridor. When they came to a fork, she went to the left. What had happened to the girl who was hypnotized by the sky, Rebekah wondered. Finally, they entered a lit classroom through an oak door. A tall man with short, grey hair and a long nose was waiting for them.  
"Sorry we're late, Mr. Ruark – I was just showing Rebekah ar-"  
"Ah, a new student? Why don't you tell us your name?"  
"But, Sir, I just-"  
"Quiet, Dawn, I wasn't asking you."  
Dawn flushed amid stares and giggles coming from the rest of the class, busying herself with removing items from her backpack.  
"Rebekah Granger…" she muttered once again. Whispers broke out among the desks.  
"Granger, did she say?"  
"We've already got a Granger!"  
"Quiet!" Mr. Ruark roared, and instantly silence took over. He turned to Rebekah again. "Where did you live before?"  
"I… er… Canada- Ottawa,' she stammered. "And then the Grangers adopted me."

Rebekah was relieved when Mr. Ruark dismissed her, telling her to sit wherever she liked. She took a seat in the front, next to Hermione. For half an hour after that, the class got turns saying their names and three things they liked. When it was Becca's turn, she said her name again, and after that, said, "I like reading, music, and poetry." Afterwards, the class was off to Science. Whenever Rebekah turned the wrong way, Dawn Tanning was there to correct her path. One thing was certain: in this new place, she at least had a friend.

**A/N - Haha! So, there we have it, Chapter 2. I know it took a long time. I got majorly stuck.  
Anywho, summer break is on the 27th (off to grade 7 after that, yay). After then, chapters should be out more often because school isn't in my way.  
Or I'm not in the way of school. Either one works.  
Oh, yeah, I take full credit for the poems, thank-you. **


	4. Murdered

_**TWO IRISH TOURISTS MURDERED IN UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - EIGHTH ANNIVERSARY**_

_This day, November 3rd, 1988, marks the eighth anniversary of the deaths of Capella and Fabian Guaire._

_Capella and Fabian were shot and killed while on vacation in the United States of America, not long after the disappearance of You-Know-Who. The murderers were soon found to be followers of the Dark Lord, and the killing is thought to be planned - the Guaires were both Aurors who fought against You-Know-Who during the First Wizarding War (FWW). _

_Not more than a year earlier, the Capella bore a son, Ryan Guaire. Ryan had been left with Fabian Guaire's mother, Sally Guaire, while the couple went on vacation. Sally went into severe depression when she heard her son was murdered and now permanently resides in St. Mungos._

_Aurors have been working around the clock for the past eight years, trying to solve the case. The criminals have not been sighted since the killing. Any information leading to the killers should be sent immediately to the Ministry of Magic by owl._

An auburn-haired boy blinked back tears from his eyes, but to no avail. This boy was born eight years ago on October 7th, 1980 and his name was Ryan Guaire, and was the only child of Capella and Fabian Guaire. Druella and Cygnus Black had taken him in, but only because they had no choice; Ryan knew they both regretted it. His best friend was a Muggle. They were trying to make him a muggle-hating monster, just like the majority of the Black family.

Every time Ryan had asked how his parents had been killed, his aunty Druella and uncle Cygnus always laughed, shaking their heads like he was a stupid person.  
"Why does it matter to you how some filthy bloodtraitors died?"  
Ryan would always reply with "It doesn't, Aunty" or "It doesn't, Uncle." Now, alone in his bedroom, he muttered "Because they're my parents." Now, for the first time in eight years, he knew the truth. The words on the page of the newspaper had willingly gave him what happened that day.  
As he read the article, images flew through is head. Bits of conversations, little snippets of the past, always with two people, a man and a woman who looked vaguely familiar. Ryan checked the photograph of the two victims below the article.

These were his parents. The picture, he remembered where it had been taken, what had happened previous to the photo being shot. Ryan scrambled for the notebook and black-inked pen on his mahogany nightstand, flipping to a blank page before the memory took his toll on his awareness.

_It was a bright, sunny day with clouds dotting the sky like balls of cotton. A gentle breeze blew, rustling the flowering foliage. He was being pushed along a dirt path in a stroller, dust rising in his wake. A murky pond with water plants swimming on the surface was to his right, a lush green field to his left, and ahead of him was a forest filled with broad-leafed trees, which started at green and by the time the other edge was looked at, they were all a pale pink, like cherry blossoms. People, most of them children, ran around the field, laughing._

_Above him was a pale-skinned, chocolate-haired woman with her hair tied up in a ponytail. She was pushing the stroller, talking to a man with Ryan's green eyes and red hair that was in need of a trim._  
_"When're you getting it cut, hmm?" the woman asked, reaching up to pick something out of his hair._  
_"I'm growing it, actually."_  
_"Growing it?" she repeated. "Fabian..."_

_"It's my hair, Ella!"_

_"Right," she smirked. "well, don't blame me if the Min-"_

_"The Ministry doesn't fire Aurors for their appearance - look at Mad-Eye."_

_"Those scars are from battles won and fought, he can't help them. You on the other hand..."_

_"Oh, look, they're taking pictures for.. er... a sick-"_

_"An euro each." Capella corrected, following his gaze. "And don't change the subject."_

_"It looks like a sickle," Fabian muttered, then said. "I don't know about you, but I'm taking Ryan to get his picture taken." With that, he took the stroller and walked towards the photographers, who were standing by a white gazebo near the pond. Capella scoffed at her husband's retreating back, arms crossed. After a moment, she ran after him, grinning._

The boy read over what he had written. Two pages had been filled with a minuscule scrawl holding every last detail of the memory like this, right down to the last bird flying in the sky. And of course the conversation, the most important part, aside from the setting.

These flashbacks happened quite often -at least once a week, every few hours at most- and the first time Ryan experienced a memory was when he was nearly six years old. Now, here he was almost two years later, his eighth birthday in little over a month, still reliving these scenes, and still, he barely knew anything about the thirteen months he had spent with his parents before they had been killed! How was that even possible? Ryan fell back onto his downy-stuffed bed , arms spread on either side of him, and heaved a sigh of frustration. His eyes closed for a second, and then flew open, and he sat bolt upright. If his parents hadn't been killed, he wouldn't have to live here. If his parents hadn't been killed, he would be able to ask questions without being laughed at. If his parents hadn't been killed, he would be accepted for what Druella and Cygnus hated him for: being a bloodtraitor, because his parents were bloodtraitors.

If his parents hadn't been killed, he wouldn't need to avenge their death.

**A/N - So, here'e are! Yes, yes. Hoped you enjoyed it and all that :3  
****It's the last day of school today! Update's will be more frequent for the next couple of months, I hope. I'm busy the next few weeks though. I'm going to my friend's cabin this weekend, then on July 5th, my aunty is getting married, and then on the 7th I'm going to British Columbia to visit family, and I'll get back by the 16th of July, my birthday.  
**

**And, and, and I got a Academic Achievement award during the Grade 6 Farewell on Tuesday! Woot! :3****  
**

**So, see y'all after I come back from school! We end on early day ^.^**

**Hope you enjoyed that chapter! I don't bite - comment, too if y'all want! ^.^**


	5. Indie and Alternative

**Disclaimer: ****_Girl With the Red Balloon _****is not written, nor sung or composed by me. It belongs to The Civil Wars.**

* * *

It was a rare day where both Mr. and Mrs. Granger were at home during summer break. Both Rebekah and Hermione were due to start their fourth grade -or fourth year, as people in the United Kingdom called it- in little over two weeks' time. Hermione had just announced that she wanted to learn how to play the piano over dinner.

"I'm sure arrangements can be made," Mrs. Granger replied, getting up to close the curtains near the dining table a bit, because the setting sun was shining right in her eye. Rebekah thought it looked quite serene outside; the rain had just ceased, and with the setting sun, the face of the Earth definitely had a youthful glow to it. When Mrs. Granger sat back down, she turned to Rebekah. "Becca, would you like to take lessons on anything?"  
"Would I?!" Rebekah felt her eyes widen, and then heat on her cheeks as Hermione and Mr. Granger turned their heads towards her, startled. "I mean, uh, yes, please."  
"Well, in what? An instrument?"  
Rebekah nodded.  
"Which instrument, Rebekah?" Mrs. Granger sighed, a stab of annoyance in her voice, and Rebekah grimaced. If there was one thing that she had learned while living in the two-story house with the Grangers over the past year, it was that her stepmum had a very short temper after she came home from work.  
"I dunno."

"Look up on it, then come and tell me, okay sweetie?" her mum said, kissing her forehead as she tucked Rebekah into bed. Becca nodded.  
"I love you, Rebekah."  
"I love you too, Mum."

As early as three days later, two albums -American Idiot by Green Day, and Night Visions by Imagine Dragons- had been bought from the music store down the street. Rebekah had been listening to them non-stop, noting the unique sounds and emotions associated with the instrument as she did so. One day, nearly a week later, she was at the music store less than two blocks from her house. A bell tinkled as she opened the door. Rebekah wandered over to the section that read "New Arrivals", scanning over the album covers. As she read the back of an album by ABBA, an eerie song played in the background.

"Oh, did she let him go  
Or did the four winds blow him away?  
Ooh, does she even know  
She's the girl with the red balloon?"

She put the ABBA album down and walked over to the front desk. "Excuse me?" she called over the top of the desk. To see completely over the desk, Rebekah had to stand on her toes.. A girl who looked to be around sixteen or seventeen turned around. She had bright pink hair, pale skin and a heart-shaped face.  
"Wotcher..." she replied, waiting for an introduction.

"Rebekah."

"Wotcher, Rebekah."

"I was wondering if you could tell me what song was playing... er..." Rebekah lifted herself up, her hands supporting her body weight on the counter, and squinted at the nametag the employee was wearing. "Nym... pha... dor... a?"

"Call me Tonks. Never Nymphadora. And don't do that." Tonks said, and Rebekah landed softly on her feet. "What's playing right now is 'Girl With the Red Balloon' by The Civil Wars."  
"Do they... have an album out?" there was something about the song that sent shivers down her spine, though she couldn't quite place what it was.

"The released one in February, actually... their first full-length one..." she answered, craning her neck and squinting around the room, looking for the album. "I think it's over there." she pointed to a shelf in the back left corner. "In the Indie section."  
"Thanks."  
"Yup."

Rebekah walked over to the indie section, scanning the shelf for the album. Eventually, she came across the album, which was labeled "Barton Hollow": a black and white photo of a lady with dark hair looking off to the her right and beside her, a man with jaw-length hair and a goatee stared straight at the camera were sitting at a table, a window behind them. She brought it up to the front desk, paid for it, and walked home, the album clutched in her hands.

For days on end after that , Rebekah hung upside-down on her bed, listening to the three CD's on her stereo. She wrote down the songs she absolutely loved, then what they had in common. One thing was always first on the list.  
Guitars.  
Chills went down her spine when she thought about learning how to play one, to eventually be able to play the song she was listening to now. She moved a hand to press the "pause" button on the stereo and pulled herself into a sitting position on the bed, swinging her feet onto the hardwood floor and nearly flew down the stairs at the speed of lightning to tell her mum her final decision.

* * *

**A/N - So, there you have it! Five days later! I think...**  
**I know it was short, but, eh. I'll probably have two or three chapters out next time I update. I'll be gone to British Columbia for awhile :3**  
**Comment! I told you: I don't bite!**


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